


Miserable At Best

by vaccinatemyheart



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Emotional, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 07:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10826637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaccinatemyheart/pseuds/vaccinatemyheart
Summary: ‘Without you Mingyu, I won’t be miserable at best,I’ll only be miserable.’Of how Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo realize that home is in each other's arms and work it out.





	Miserable At Best

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is derived from the song Miserable At Best by Mayday Parade. It's a very beautiful song, so give it a listen if you may.
> 
> This work is cross-posted on Asian Fanfics.

_Let’s not pretend like you’re alone tonight, I know he’s there and, you’re probably hanging out and making eyes, while across the room he stares; I’ll bet he gets the nerve to walk the floor and ask my man to dance, and he’ll say **yes.** _

 

Night time is not the time for Mingyu to step foot out of his house, dressed to the nines and hair in place, to attend gala nights of sorts.

Night time is when Mingyu locks himself inside the stuffy comfort of his apartment and contemplates cooking food for two – though he always knows the other plate would remain untouched, an extra portion that will eventually find its sorry place in the rubbish bin.

Night time is when Mingyu would lay in his bed with the television running in the living room, electricity expenses out of his concerns – and his mind is instead filled with reveries of a body too skinny pressed up against him, nosing at his collarbones as they fell asleep.

Nights like those, Mingyu is trying to get used to being lonely – _just like any other day._

Tonight, he isn’t as lonely as he stands in the corner of a ballroom, fingers clutching tightly at the stem of a wine glass, the alcohol matching the colour of Wonwoo’s bowtie, neatly fastened, and stark against his collarbones like a sunset dream.

Mingyu cannot remember how it feels like kissing and running his fingers along the expanse of Wonwoo’s neck, nor does he remember the taste of it.

 

‘Hey, come join me at the other side. I’ve found Joshua and some of the other guys,’ Minghao’s voice comes out of nowhere, his hand patting Mingyu’s back lightly, and his invitation a tempting offer to stop Mingyu from glancing over to Wonwoo incessantly.

Mingyu knows, that Minghao knows, and he’s appreciative that Minghao is trying to compensate in his own way, a silent apology for compelling Mingyu to a formal night out and occupy a space with Wonwoo within near reach.

‘Let me get another glass of wine, and I’ll come over,’ Mingyu answers, disregarding the sympathetic face Minghao gives him. Mingyu wonders if the boys would give him the same look if they knew Wonwoo was here.

‘Hansol’s been asking about you.’ Minghao tells.

‘Is he stuffing his face with shrimp tartlets and crab cakes again?’ he asks.

‘You know how he is,’ Minghao smiles back gently.

‘Typical,’ Mingyu allows himself to roll his eyes.

‘Come fast, I’ll wait for you, okay?’ Minghao tells softly, and takes his leave at Mingyu’s nod.

 

Mingyu doesn’t really move from his spot to get himself another glass of wine – not for the next five minutes, or the five that comes after. And he’s again grateful that Minghao doesn’t come back to find him, in understanding to give Mingyu his space, and allow him wallow within the thoughts in his head.

Mingyu’s only hesitant to retire from his position, a clear view of Wonwoo in the line of his eye sight that he knows he shouldn’t be watching, but cannot help but to do so.

He sees how Wonwoo glimmers across the room, eyes shining, hands twiddling, and it’ll only be a matter of time before someone else comes in and swoops Wonwoo off his feet under the chandelier, and though Mingyu can’t bear to fathom how he’d watch that – _his heart constricts even thinking about it,_ yet he can’t help himself but just stand and watch – helpless, hopeless.

It is also then Mingyu sees sight of another man from a distance.

 

He understands that when he notices how Wonwoo’s tie had been slightly crooked, the familiar silhouette would’ve noticed it too, and he understands that Junhui – an Adonis in a suit, would have more guts to walk over to Wonwoo and carry out a conversation with him, hands casually fixing his bowtie for him.

Mingyu catches sight of him walking over to Wonwoo, sees how Wonwoo’s eyes go bright when he finds Junhui’s eyes, and how he laughs softly when Junhui greets Wonwoo with a hug, a butterfly touch on his lower back, like the close friends they are, their dark hair and height matching perfectly, similar to each other.

It’s comical how everything had initially spiralled downhill thanks to Junhui, albeit it had never been his part to be held accountable. Junhui, had never done anything wrong.

Mingyu’s breath glitches. It hitches at the thought of another touching Wonwoo, seemingly domestic and intimate to the eyes of others.

Mingyu all at once cannot help but wonder, if within the two years of being together, Wonwoo had detested having Mingyu look down at him, in a literal manner. If Wonwoo found it hard when he had to tiptoe to reach Mingyu’s lips, if he hated stretching himself too much to run his fingers along and fix Mingyu’s hair.

He wonders if the familiar shadow of handsome and kind Wen Junhui, whose eyes have been grazing over Wonwoo, shining as if he’s found himself a star – _just like how Mingyu has been doing,_ would be a better fit for Wonwoo, than Mingyu would ever be.

Mingyu wonders if what he thinks would seem preposterous.

 

The music playing at the background, a melodious tune of jazz, morphing into soft romance, mellows by as a blur to his ears. He’s buzzed and intoxicated, uncertain if it is from the alcohol or his emotions, and he cannot bear seeing Junhui take Wonwoo’s hands to the dance floor any moment soon.

He turns around, in hopes of catching another waiter dressed sleek in their black vests, and snatches himself a glass of wine to drown in, when his shoulder is given a ghost of a touch, a squeeze following after. Mingyu is even less bothered to swivel around drowsily to see who it would appear to be, yet he chugs down his wine and looks behind.

Mingyu is dumbfounded. He’s taken aback to see the Wonwoo who was fifty feet away from him earlier only three feet away from him now – his long fingers on Mingyu’s shoulder, and cologne wafting into his senses.

Mingyu acknowledges, he’s missed this smell.

 

‘Mingyu,’ Wonwoo whispers his greeting, name spilling out of his lips like a secret prayer. Or maybe it only sounds as such to Mingyu.

Up close, Mingyu can now see Wonwoo’s beautiful eyes, and his beautiful hair, and his beautiful everything.

‘Wonwoo,’ he replies, voice barely above Wonwoo’s. ‘Funny seeing you here.’

‘I should be the one saying that, Mingyu,’ Wonwoo tells.

‘I leave the house on important occasions,’ he relents lightly.

 

Mingyu knows Wonwoo has heard – of the news of Mingyu cooping himself up in his own confines with no company, refusing any that had been given and chasing the people who came over to provide him comfort.

He knows, that Wonwoo knows, Mingyu hasn’t been the same since he left – if the eye bags under his eyes doesn’t give it away, and if the downturn of his lips doesn’t send the message.

He’s sure Wonwoo knows, that Mingyu had slowly been left to deteriorate his being, a lonely corpse engulfed in darkness even when the sun was up. He knows that either one of the boys would’ve relayed much of this to Wonwoo.

At this point, Mingyu knows, that everyone who’s good friends with Mingyu knows –and yet he pretends like he doesn’t know.

 

‘Ah, so you’re finally accustomed to going around?’ Wonwoo asks, hint of jokiness in his voice. Mingyu understands he’s trying to keep the conversation light and airy, but Mingyu is unable to bite his tongue in time to stop himself from expressing his thoughts.

‘Not everyone is as good at leaving things, Wonwoo,’ he says bitterly.

They let the silence cocoon them, like a stuffy blanket on a warm day. Mingyu knows he’s made it tense between them now. He can see Wonwoo shuffling his feet, head hanging low facing the pristine floor in defeat, but Mingyu is too tired to worry about it anymore. He’s been worrying too much these few months, the burden heavy on his chest like an anchor.

He hears Wonwoo let out a tired sigh, the tiny sound getting lost in the boisterous crowd.

‘Mingyu, you’re crazy if you think I’d ever gotten, or _ever will_ get over you,’ Wonwoo says.

 _‘You left,’_ Mingyu says, as if two words were enough to get his message through, wrapped nicely in bitterness, and tied with hurt.

He can barely let himself see Wonwoo in the eyes, because it hurts everywhere, not only in his heart, but at the tips of his fingers, and at the bones of his hips – _it hurts everywhere_ Wonwoo has ever touched him before.

‘No, you just never gave me a chance,’ Wonwoo relays silently.

‘You didn’t try to say anything, Wonwoo.’

‘You weren’t in the position to listen either, Mingyu.’

‘So you took the easy way out?’ Mingyu voices harshly, maybe accusatory, though he partially knows he doesn't have the right to.

 _‘Don’t,’_ Wonwoo whispers, and when Wonwoo closes his eyes, Mingyu finally sees, how tired Wonwoo looks too. He doesn’t look better than Mingyu, cheeks a little sunken in, like he’s lacked enough of something. ‘Don’t say it that way.’

‘We were both not in our right minds, Mingyu,’ he continues. ‘And I wanted to come back to you Mingyu, I wanted to come home to you more than anything, but I wondered if you’d let me in again – and it’s been three months, and I’m still wondering,’ Wonwoo licks his lips, head altering away from facing Mingyu, and then to the floor again.

‘You don’t know how it’s been since you left,’ Mingyu whimpers.

‘If it felt like pain, then I felt it too,’ Wonwoo answers.

 

_‘You’re overreacting. I’ve been telling you his apartment was closer to the hotel!’ Wonwoo shouted back._

_‘It doesn’t justify why you never called back, Wonwoo! You could’ve gotten a taxi.’ Mingyu raised his voice higher. The neighbours are sure to have heard them by now._

_‘I keep telling you, Mingy –’_

_‘Are you cheating on me with Junhui?’ he hissed._

_‘Mingyu, you’re being ridiculous!’ Wonwoo kicked the bean bag chair, the closest thing to him._

_‘You know, if you’re going to keep doing this, let’s just end this!’ Mingyu yelled._

_‘Do it your way then, Mingyu. I’m sick of you blaming me for everything.’ he huffed._

_‘Blaming? You’re the one who’s being unnecessary now, Wonwoo!’ He threw a mug onto the floor, Wonwoo’s favourite breaking into pieces._

_‘Unnecessary? Are you even hearing yourself right now, Mingyu?’ Wonwoo asked, ridiculed._

_‘I’m done, whatever, get out.’_

_‘Whatever.’_

 

If Mingyu were to think again about everything, he would blame the both of them for what had happened.

He would blame Wonwoo for not explaining himself when Mingyu flung a shoe at his face, shouting questions if Wonwoo really did spend his drunken night at Junhui’s after a night's dinner out, instead of returning home. He would blame Wonwoo for letting out a bitter sigh and giving up, not glancing back when he packed his things and let himself out the door.

Mingyu would blame Mingyu, for having very little faith in Wonwoo. Mingyu would blame Mingyu, for jumping into conclusions and losing his mind and voice to anger, instead of talking to Wonwoo. Mingyu would blame no one but himself, for letting Wonwoo leave instead of pulling him back in, and whisper him a broken apology.

 

‘You’re best off without me under any circumstances, Wonwoo.’ Mingyu finds his voice to say.

‘Without you Mingyu, I won’t be miserable at best, _I’ll only be miserable.’_ Wonwoo tells brokenly.

Wonwoo touches Mingyu’s face, so softly, so tender and Mingyu has to hold his tears in, just like he did that night, months ago, his lips trembling from the effort.

‘He’s been staring at you since the night started, Wonwoo. Just go,’ Mingyu tips his head at Junhui, lacking effort, bones too tired.

'I'm not leaving you again,’ Wonwoo whispers again.

‘How would you know if I’ll give you the chance to stay?’ Mingyu asks, eyes glassy with question.

‘Because three months was enough torture, and I’d rather take the chances than lose you.’

_Mingyu understands that the pain was mutual._

 

It’s hard, it’s always been hard when it comes to Wonwoo, even when it comes to loving Wonwoo – because all Mingyu could think of was his chest against Wonwoo’s, and his lips atop of Wonwoo’s and his hands within Wonwoo’s, and _all his – his Wonwoo,_ who really isn’t much of his anymore.

But when Wonwoo is here, close to Mingyu, his everything right within Mingyu’s reach, he only wants to let the old months go and start anew, old memories stored at the back of his mind, locked in a deep corner of his heart and shadowed by the new prospects of what Wonwoo can give him, here and now.

Wonwoo kisses him then, with zero hesitance present, like he’s been _craving_ for this, and Mingyu _allows_ him to – mouth soft against his, hand gentle on his hip, since Mingyu wouldn’t know when it would happen again, when he would be allowed to touch Wonwoo again.

 

Wonwoo’s lips are warm, they’re warm like the wine Mingyu had drank, and they’re warm like the recollection of their times together – they’re warm, and it felt exactly like coming home.

Mingyu moves away first, overwhelmed, and Wonwoo strokes Mingyu’s cheeks, unsure if the crimson shading his face is from the alcohol he consumed, or the lips he had devoured.

He fixes Wonwoo’s bowtie. He’s sure the universe is sure that this is Mingyu’s job to do, and no one else’s. It’s his place to touch and take care of Wonwoo.

 

‘Let’s go home,’ Wonwoo says, a small upturn of his lips that Mingyu mimics.

_‘Okay.’_

 

And when Mingyu drives home that night, he is as calm as the sea thinking about talking things out with Wonwoo, and he isn’t as lonely as he has been in the past three months. His windows are rolled down and the cool wind is nipping at his cheek, an extra kiss of congratulatory for him. The stars are caving him a path on the asphalt – and there is a warm hand within his grasp, clutching tightly at his with intertwined fingers, all the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism are very much welcomed and appreciated. 
> 
> Something about this story made me feel something; it feels a little rough around the edges, but it feels like something. It means quite a bit to me, so let me know what you think. xx


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